Main menu

Sign up for our newsletter

Dirty Projectors' New Reality

July 11, 2018

After "Hello" and "How’s the tour going," my first question for Dave Longstreth is: "What the fuck is a Higurashi?"

While checking out the liner notes for the Dirty Projectors’ new album Lamp Lit Prose the night before our interview, I saw that Bjork had contributed a “Higurashi recording” for the track “I Feel Energy,” and then I spent a very unsuccessful hour googling “Higurashi,” “Higurashi music,” “Higurashi Bjork,” and “The fuck is a Higurashi” before giving up.

But before I can convince myself that a cricket is some strange Bjorkian Ableton plug-in, Longstreth explains, “She recorded this movie on her iPhone of a Japanese cricket chirping and sent it to me. It just worked with the song.”

Lamp Lit Prose comes 18 months after the Dirty Projectors’ seventh, self-titled album — their first release since Longstreth and long-time band member Amber Coffman’s public break and her subsequent departure on a solo career. That record was concept-driven, meditative, and read so widely by the media as a “breakup album” that it seemed as if iTunes would have to change the record’s genre tag from “Alternative” to “Breakup.” After that album was put out in the world, Longstreth was ready to move on. “I was never gonna tour on the self-titled album because it would be depressing. It would be difficult.. The self-titled record has an arc to it. It starts out pretty salty and emotionally devastated, but bends towards forgiveness, redemption. I thought performing it night after night…” Longstreth looks down at his drink. “I was just ready to be done with it.”

The bar we’re at is projecting old Buffy episodes on the wall, and we’re constantly taking breaks from our conversation to comment on Buffy’s outfits and exploits. As I’m asking Longstreth what genre he thinks the record might fit into, Buffy sparks a match off of one demon’s ear and lights his monster friend on fire. “Lighting a match off a demon’s ear,” Longstreth says, turning back to me. “That’s the genre.”

Which, honestly, makes sense. Lamp Lit Prose is full of flashing indie music bops — the kind that propelled Dirty Projectors into a higher stratosphere of fame when they released “Stillness is the Move” nearly a decade ago. “It’s sort of an anti-breakup album,” I think out loud, and Longstreth agrees. It’s what you write after you’ve been holed up in your Netflix dungeon for a month crying and eating sour straws, then finally decide to go out in the sunlight. There’s no definable narrative, no arching conceptual framework; instead, we’re offered wildly upbeat tracks that Longstreth describes as “extroverted and uplifting.” Recorded with the help of collaborators like Syd, HAIM, Empress Of, and, of course, Bjork’s iMessages, Lamp Lit Prose is easily consumed, (sometimes overly) airy, but filled with the weighty, poetic lyrics that Longstreth has become well-known for.

The most engaging aspect of Lamp Lit Prose isn’t the features or twisting melodies or even cricket mp3s, but the layered vulnerability of Longstreth’s voice. Having written for Solange on A Seat at the Table, Kanye on "FourFiveSeconds," Joanna Newsom, Bombino, and Grizzly Bear, Longstreth can pinpoint what another musician’s project needs to perfectly come to life (Bjork has lauded him for his “almost psychic ability to write for other voices”). However, Longstreth admits to me that he is sometimes “reluctant to write music that would belong in [his] own voice,” that he feels he has a “blind spot for what that is or would be.” And you can hear that on Lamp Lit Prose — not in the sense that his vocals are half-formed or somehow incomplete, but that when he delivers a note, it is with careful, incendiary precision.

On standout track, “That’s a Lifestyle,” Longstreth sings, “And the monster eats its young / till they’re gone, gone, gone / Till it's satisfied and done / It wants blood, blood, blood.” When I ask Longstreth where he drew inspiration for the lyrics, I expect him to bring up Godzilla or Beowulf, but instead, he explains that the song is about “the reality of life in America and systemic violence, and legislated oppression.”

“I mean, yeah,” he says. “Art inevitably interacts with politics and culture. Of course, all this stuff was around before Trump. But he’s put a really disgusting face to it. By and large these songs are just about connecting with the stuff you believe in. The stuff that gives me positivity and heartens me. Gives me hope.”

In the background, Buffy rams a stake through a vampire’s heart and laughs. She’s kept the monsters at bay — at least until the next episode — and suddenly the photographer has to whisk Longstreth away for their shoot. Lamp Lit Prose is starkly bright music for a morally vacuous moment in society. It can’t defeat any Trumpian bloodsuckers, but it might cheer you up a bit as you sit on the subway, glowering at the old dude across from you who’s wearing a blood-red MAGA cap.

Due West

November 10, 2018

The last time office caught up with Kelsey Lu, we asked the artist what her favorite scent in nature was, to which she told us, “Wet moss lying on a pine log with White Jasmine flowering vines creeping around it to set off an explosion of forest florals.” Coincidentally enough, that is the exact visual scheme of her new music video for “Due West.”

Directed by Cara Stricker and Mindy Le Brock, the new video shows Lu dancing her way through nature. Whether she is standing strongly amongst the trees, or floating freely in the water, the artist searches for something fulfilling. “‘Due West’ is a continuation of the evolution of self,” she explains, in a press release. “A continuous questioning of the romanticism of ‘home’ and what we leave behind in order to gain hope of what’s ahead.”

Homeland Security

November 09, 2018

In an industry where high budget videos, and shiny Maseratis serve as an injection of serious cool, Danish artist, Goss, does things a different way. His world is one where a more experimental take on full-fledged pop is the potent driver for cultural progress. It’s on these airwaves that Goss takes a trip on his soul pop plane.

The Copenhagen-based producer intentionally spends most of his time away from the high-paced lens of the mainstream. He prefers staying in and writing music. Since the dissolution of his former band, the 34-year-old has been quietly working on new material for his solo project, the result of which is the moody Homeland Security, out today.

But Goss has a different goal in mind for his music. Having witnessed his girlfriend, the Danish singer (and office favorite) MØ, rise to fame, and the whirlwind of expectations and challenges that have come with it, he is hesitant to arrive in the spotlight.

“Karen’s success has discouraged me a bit from big success,” he admits. “It’s quite fierce. And the pressure is really heavy.”

Though that has made him anxious about the cost of commercial fame, it hasn’t discouraged him from searching for his own place in music. Sometimes, in collaboration with others, but mostly hiding alone in a shared basement studio in Copenhagen, Goss writes songs to deal with the emotional apocalypse that erupts sometimes when his girlfriend is away. It’s how he processes, and ultimately, understands his own feelings.

In recent years, however, Goss has been grappling with who he is—and who he wants to be, both in life, and as an artist. In contrast to most musicians in the current cultural landscape, he has remained resolutely anonymous, instead focusing on cultivating his musical aesthetic and not giving much away about himself or his personal life.

“The first two years of Goss, I just sat alone in a basement and twisted knobs,” he remembers. It was during this time that he wrote his first EP, Healthcare, which he ended up releasing last year. With five songs, the album was upbeat and saccharine, yet seemingly unsure of themselves, proof that Goss was still trying to figure out exactly how he wanted them to sound. Around the same time, he wrote a demo for what would eventually become MØ’s dreamy pop ballad, “Kamikaze,” and in doing so, realized how important collaboration was in his own work.

Fast forward a few years and Goss has finally established his own, unapologetic sound. Listening to Homeland Security, it’s clear that the artist has solidified his vision, and through the process, found his voice. The downtempo pop singles are catchy, yet unassuming. Snuggled between woozy synths and chopped up pianos, Goss creates his own experimental story, an intoxicating stream of consciousness, almost like his own inner dialogue coming to life before our eyes—or, ears.

Lyrically, the record sounds almost like a fleeting thought, too intimate to share out loud. It’s hedonistic, but sincere—it’s clear Goss is an artist who can’t help but wear his heart on his sleeve.

“I feel like it’s the true mirroring of who I am and how I’ve felt in certain periods and times,” he says about the album. “I wanted to write about all kinds of things, but love has tsunamied my life since I met Karen. I’ve even tried to write more political songs, but it doesn’t feel like it’s honest in the same way.”

For an artist who, up until this point, has remained protective over his private life and relationship, it’s a bold display of honesty about his relationship, with lyrics that aren’t prophetic or vague—they’re direct stories about how he actually feels.

“Love is extremely easy and super difficult,“ he says. “When Karen is on tour and gone for long periods, after three weeks I hit this extreme feeling of sadness. I use that energy in the songs.“

And that’s exactly what Goss does best—using his own emotion and boiling them down to their simplest, most authentic form.

Unhindered by the kind of hyper-masculinity and ironic affection that often governs many artists, Goss is totally unfeigned in his approach to his art. But that doesn’t mean he’s gotten comfortable—he’s just as honest about his music as he is his feelings about love and loss.

“I’m still trying to find the core of what it really is,” he says about his vision. “But I feel like this EP is a big step towards figuring out what I want. I think I’d like to end up somewhere that’s experimental, but still pop songs, which is a bit of a dangerous place because a lot people want to rest there. But you have to find your own place,” adds Goss.

And even if he sees that place eventually changing, toward the end of our conversation, I ask Goss to describe the EP in three words. “Explorative, sensitive, good,” he pauses. “That might be me—at least on that EP—but also in life.”

As for the future? “Karen is dreaming of moving to New York,” he smiles. “So, it’s sort of up to me. It would be a good time—and a good challenge. [...] As a person, it’s important to throw yourself into new situations and do things you’re afraid of.”

MHD in NYC

November 05, 2018

If you don’t already know about Mohamed Sylla, more commonly known as MHD, it’s likely you’ve heard the effects of his extremely personalized sonic identity. Growing up listening to predominately African music, the French artist soon became interested in rap and is now widely acknowledged for forging the sound labeled as Afrotrap—a distinct mixture between French rap and afrobeat influence.

Through the compelling combination of these two inspirations, MHD has created a niche within the music industry which is entirely his for the taking—and at just 24 years old, with his sixth project, 19, released last month, it seem it’s already his.

Known for his high-energy onstage performances—which usually include bringing fans onstage, his signature dance move (think air guitaring, but smoother) and jumping into the crowd, MHD couldn’t be any more chill in person.

“Normally, I don’t like to talk a lot,” said the rapper about the difference between his onstage persona and who he is IRL. “I’m a bit shy, but MHD loves to dance and get crazy.”

With a staggering 2.3M Instagram followers (and growing), and having performed as many as 300 concerts in the last two years, MHD has created his own cult-like fanbase that is interesting in everything he does, eats and wears. But this level of fame was something the artist never could’ve imagined.

“I didn’t think I was going to blow up like this,” he admitted. “I didn’t even necessarily think I was going to do rap music.” The career he did predict for himself? “When I was younger, I thought I would own my own French restaurant.” Though we would’ve loved to try the delicious-sounding French spin on a hamburger he told us about, we’re glad he ended up choosing music. And so is MHD.

Last month, the rapper stopped by the office Newsstand to pose for some portraits and tell us about 19.

How was the writing process for 19? Did you have to put a lot of thought into it, or was it more like words spilling out onto the page?

It was much easier and I managed to write it very fast—it was very simple.

Why do you think that was?

Because it’s my life—my history. My album feels like me just having a discussion with someone, but in this case, the someone I’m having the discussion with are my fans—the public.

It’s a very personal album. Was writing it at all therapeutic, or was it all things that you were already aware of?

There are a lot of things I’ve never said before that I said on this album. There are things I can’t even really say in interviews because as a person, I’m a bit closed off and reserved. But on the album, I can say things through the voice of MHD, which really helps further my message.

In that context, do you enjoy interviews?

It’s not too bad. If people are interested in me, then I’m interested in other people, and I’m happy to talk about myself.

I’ve seen some really crazy footage from your performances. What’s the most insane thing that’s happened during one of your shows?

I had a show scheduled in Guinea and way too many people showed up—about 120,000. So, we had to cancel and reschedule.

What are you doing when you’re not making music or going on tour?

Right now, I’m making a second film.

Can you tell me a bit about it?

I’m the main character and it’s about some guy who’s at school, and over the course of the film, he has some problems and ends up in prison. From there, the story unfolds.

I feel like even pretend going to prison is pretty intense.

Yeah, it was, especially because usually I’m showing the happy side of my neighborhood, and you know, it’s a lot of dancing, its festive—it’s a happy life—but I’m exposing the other side of it through this film.